


Light my Fire

by wildlingoftarth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fireplaces, Outdoor Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Ski instructors AU, Vaginal Sex, stripteases, union suit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29208093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildlingoftarth/pseuds/wildlingoftarth
Summary: Brienne Tarth, first-year ski instructor at Winterfell Resort, has heard the annual end-of-season party can get wild, but she can't imagine just how wild until fellow instructor and thorn in her side Jaime Lannister ends up in her cabin at the end of the night.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 98
Kudos: 187
Collections: The Exchange that was Promised: Jaime x Brienne Smut Swap 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forbiddenfantasies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forbiddenfantasies/gifts).



> Inspired by the [Infamous Union Suit Gif Set](https://forbiddenfantasies1.tumblr.com/post/637309045649326080/continue-to-ignore-me-i-needed-another-link-for) and also a little bit by the 2001 snowboarding movie Out Cold, which is IMO a highly underrated entry into the early-2000s teen movie canon. 
> 
> Forbiddenfantasies - I truly hope you enjoy this!

“Hmm. Of all the couples to get together tonight, I never expected that one.”

Brienne looks over at Jaime Lannister, who has just sidled up and is leaning on the wall next to her, and raises an eyebrow. She follows his gaze to where Brienne's roommate, Margaery Tyrell, is draped all over Jaime's roommate, Addam Marbrand, in a recliner in the corner of the little staff cabin they’re all packed into. She sighs and takes a swig of the now-lukewarm beer she’s been nursing for half the party.

“Shouldn’t you be off somewhere getting fawned over by your adoring minions?” she says, gesturing toward the knot of women that’s been following him around all night, attempting to shoot their last shot with him before the season comes to a close. Jaime huffs out a laugh. 

“Nah, I’m not really into getting fawned over. I prefer to be browbeaten and belittled, which is why I came to you.” His sharp green eyes and even sharper smile make her traitorous heart leap in her chest.

Brienne had heard tell from her fellow ski instructors at Winterfell Resort of the traditional end-of-season party – that it’s the craziest night of the year and that more drunken hijinks and hookups happen on this night than any other in the season. It’s only Brienne’s first year working at Winterfell, but judging by the things she’s seen over the past few months, she hadn’t been sure how a normal night could get any wilder. Now she gets it. 

Their eyes turn toward the kitchen, where Ygritte is stretched out on the counter and Gilly is slurping some kind of clear liquor out of her belly button. A few instructors crowd around Tormund, chanting and pumping their fists as he attempts to down an entire horn of beer in one gulp. He finishes the horn and looks over at Brienne, winking and grinning lasciviously.

Brienne wrinkles her nose and glances at Jaime, who is looking at her with amusement.

“Shut up,” she says with a half-smile, taking another long draw off her beer bottle.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says with a laugh, flashing the bright grin that has made her stomach swoop all season, even if she’d never admit it to herself or anyone else.

At the beginning of the season, Margaery had given Brienne the rundown on all the other returning instructors. She’d told her that Jaime had worked there every winter for the past 10 years despite having a trust fund and not needing to work at all, and that he was friendly enough, yet slightly standoffish, and to not be offended if he ignored her completely.

No one had been more surprised than Brienne when Jaime seemed to take a special interest in teasing, needling, arguing, and generally trying to get a rise out of her every chance he got. There was something about him – his smugness, maybe, or his irritating good looks – that made it near impossible for her not to give it right back.

They’d settled into a strange, antagonistic friendship after that, the teasing gradually becoming less hostile and more playful, to the point where an outside observer might even think they’d been flirting. 

They weren’t, of course. Flirting was what Pia and Hildy and all the other women did with Jaime, had been doing with him all night – batting their eyelashes and finding excuses to touch him and smiling their shy little smiles. Curiously, he never seemed to pay much attention to them. He’d just smile back and gently rebuff their advances to go bother Brienne some more. No one has ever frustrated her more, but no one has ever made her laugh as much, either, and she’s seen enough little glimpses into his true self to know that his heart is even bigger than his ego.

“Looks like we might be shacking up tonight,” he says, close enough to her ear that she shivers. “These walls are paper-thin,” he knocks on the wood paneling for emphasis, “And I really don’t want to have to listen to _that_ all night.”

Brienne turns her face away from Jaime’s so he doesn’t notice the blazing flush creeping up her cheeks at the thought of _shacking up_ with Jaime. “I thought she was gay,” Brienne says, watching her roommate straddle Addam in the recliner. 

“Me too. Guess she’s dipping her toe in the other end of the pool.” He shrugs, then looks at Brienne’s beer bottle. “Do you want another?”

Brienne imagines going to bed stone-cold sober with Jaime Lannister in her cabin and thinks better of it. “Oh. Sure. Thanks.”

Jaime leaves to get more beers from the refrigerator and she watches the muscles flex in his broad back as he weaves through the crowd. They’d all removed their jackets and underlayers in the heat of the crowded cabin, and Jaime is down to his union suit with his ski pants. It’s gray and made of a soft-looking waffle-knit fabric and extremely fitted with buttons that disappear down into the waistband of his pants, not that she’s followed them. 

She’s so engrossed in watching Jaime that she doesn’t notice Margaery appear at her side, and she yelps when Margaery says brightly, “I’m staying at Addam’s tonight. Jaime can sleep in my bed. Ta!” Margaery wiggles her fingers at Brienne and smiles a mischievous grin, then grabs Addam’s hand and pulls him out the door.

“All that was left was one Direwolf Ice – I thought we could share it,” Jaime says when he returns, holding up a silver can covered in condensation.

Brienne makes a face at the bottom-shelf beer but takes it anyway, her fingers tangling with Jaime’s before she cracks it open and takes a gulp. Jaime leans against the wall again, this time with his shoulder pressed against it, facing her, closer than before. She hands it back to him and tries not to be too obvious about watching his throat as he swallows. 

“Marge and Addam left,” she says, taking the beer back from Jaime. “She said you could sleep in her bed tonight. Unless you have someone else’s cabin to go back to.”

Jaime’s eyebrows furrow, and on his face is a look she can’t quite decipher. “If you don’t want me in your cabin, just tell me.” He passes the can back to her. 

“That’s not…I wasn’t... ” She huffs in frustration, then takes a drink, his soft answering laugh reverberating in her ear.

They stand there like that for a few minutes, sharing a beer in their little corner while their coworkers whoop and dance and stumble around them. A strange tension rises between them, growing every time their fingers brush, every time her lips touch the metal warmed by his mouth. The beer doesn’t last long with both of them drinking, and before she knows it, she’s tipping back the last few drops. Even though it was barely enough alcohol to get an insect drunk, she feels strangely light-headed thinking about leaving the party with Jaime. 

“Well, I’m beat. Are you ready to take me home?” He smiles his jocular smile, but there’s an undercurrent of something else there. She takes a deep breath to calm her nerves and nods. The cold winter air makes her flushed cheeks sting when she steps out of the cabin.

Despite the lateness of the season, Winterfell is still blanketed in snow after a recent storm, and it crunches under her and Jaime’s feet as they pick their way quietly down the path between the staff cabins. Brienne’s breath fogs out in front of her in a white cloud, disappearing as it floats up into the inky black sky. 

Brienne retrieves her keys from her pocket and unlocks the door, acutely aware of Jaime’s presence behind her despite the thick ski jackets separating them. She pushes the door open and steps in, Jaime following behind, and is shocked at how cold it is, even compared to the night air outside. 

“Seven hells, Marge, what did you do?” she mutters to herself when she looks at the thermostat, which has been turned down to the average temperature in the Frostfangs. She cranks it up and looks apologetically at Jaime, who stands in the middle of the small living room with his hands in his pockets, watching her move about. Her body hums in his presence, warming despite the lack of heat in the cabin.

Brienne takes three logs from the basket next to the fireplace and piles them in, adding some smaller branches and crumpled newspaper. She lights the paper and blows on it, catching first the small branches, then the logs. In just a few minutes, the fire is roaring, and Brienne stands and turns toward Jaime, who is looking at her with something approaching awe.

She frowns. “What? You’ve never seen a woman make a fire before?”

Jaime smiles, a softer version of the cutting ones she normally sees from him, and shakes his head. “No, it’s not that.”

Brienne looks at him curiously before walking to the kitchen. “It should warm up in a few minutes,” she says, opening the refrigerator. As late as it is, she’s too worked up to sleep, so she grabs two beers (a decent brand, this time) and walks to where he’s sitting and warming his hands in front of the fire. She offers him one and sits cross-legged next to him, letting the heat from the flames thaw her hands and face. The stubble on Jaime’s jaw glints in the firelight, and his hair falls artfully in front of his forehead. He looks like he could be in a goddamned outdoor clothing catalog.

“So,” he says after taking a long swallow. “What are you doing after the season is over?”

They’ve never spoken about the future beyond the next day, and Brienne is taken aback. She blinks. “I actually got a job back home on Tarth. Park ranger in the national forest.”

“Hm. Tarth. Never been.”

“It’s beautiful, especially in the spring. The snowmelt creates waterfalls everywhere, and there are whole valleys of cornflower and goldenrod and daisies…” Brienne recognizes that she sounds like a walking tourism bureau, so she quiets and takes another sip of her beer. “What do you do in the off-season?” she asks when she realizes she doesn’t actually know. 

Jaime shrugs. “Oh, this and that. Mostly travel. Sometimes I spend it with my brother and his family.”

“You travel every off-season yet you’ve never been to Tarth? I’m insulted,” she says with mock outrage.

Jaime laughs and shifts closer. “I’m sorry! Maybe I just needed someone to describe the scenery to me in eloquent detail.”

“Shut up,” she says with a smile, bumping her shoulder against his. He turns his body toward hers and looks at her, mouth slightly parted, the fire reflecting in his eyes as they dart from hers down to her lips and back up. She swallows and attempts to decipher the look on his face before he breaks the temporary silence.

“It’s getting warm in here, finally,” he says as he unzips his ski jacket and peels it off, exposing his union suit again. Brienne’s eyes travel of their own accord down the placket of buttons, pausing on his defined pectorals, the broad shoulder and biceps muscles straining against the fabric, the flat stomach. His nipples are temptingly apparent, and an image flashes into her mind of raking over them with her fingernails. 

She gives her head a miniscule shake, turning her eyes away from his body and back to the fire, chiding herself for staring at him, her _friend_ , so lecherously. He probably prefers her company because she _doesn’t_ usually stare at him like that, doesn’t creep on him like the other women. She’s about to finish her beer and excuse herself to bed before she does something stupid when she sees his hands moving toward her in her periphery. 

Brienne turns her head just as Jaime grips the zipper of her coat, his knuckles brushing the skin under her jaw. He pauses. “Aren’t you warm?”

She swallows again and nods, the sound of the zipper clicking downward deafening in the quiet cabin. When the zipper reaches the end and Jaime pushes her jacket off her shoulders, his fingers just barely grazing her arms, she lets out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Thanks,” she says shakily. He clinks the neck of his beer bottle against hers, and they drink, eyes locked over the bottoms of their bottles. 

They sit and stare at the fire, finishing their beers, Jaime’s arm brushing against Brienne’s every time he brings his bottle to his lips. The silence is comfortable, but she thinks he must be able to hear the vibration of her body and the hammering of her heart. Brienne tips her beer back, turning to find Jaime watching her throat as she takes the last swallow. The beer traces a warm path down to her stomach, and in addition to the heat from the fire and the reaction of her body to the look in Jaime’s eyes, she suddenly feels uncomfortably flushed. 

“Well, I should probably get to bed…” she begins, just as Jaime says, “Brienne.”

“Oh,” she pauses. “Um.”

Jaime shakes his head softly. “It’s nothing.”

Brienne takes his empty bottle, putting both of them on the counter in the kitchen, and hears the rustle of him collecting his coat and standing up.

“Which bedroom is Margaery’s?”

“The one on the left.” Brienne’s heart still pounds, but her body calms some without his in such close proximity. 

He rattles the doorknob to Margaery’s bedroom, then turns to her. “It appears to be locked.”

She frowns and walks over to the door, trying the knob and finding it just as unyielding as he had. “She never locks her door,” she says apologetically. “I don’t have a key.” 

Jaime shrugs and gestures toward the couch. “I’ll sleep out here.”

Brienne looks at the couch, barely more than a loveseat, and sighs. She doesn’t _really_ want to make him sleep there, but the other option is her bed, and...no. Absolutely not. Especially if he’s planning on taking those ski pants off.

“Sorry. I’ll get you a blanket and pillow.” 

She pulls extra bedding from the linen closet and practically throws it at him, then mumbles “good night” and closes herself in her bedroom. She leans back against the door and is tempted to bang her head against it. Her body’s response to Jaime is one thing, but she should not be having these thoughts about her friend, who only needs a place to sleep tonight. 

Despite the late hour, sleep doesn’t come easily, and she tosses and turns and tries not to think about Jaime on the other side of her door. How he might look laid out on the couch, his relaxed face bathed in firelight, the tight gray garment stretching across his…

“Oh, for the love,” Brienne mumbles to herself and throws the covers back. She wraps her robe around herself and opens her door, hoping a cup of hot tea or maybe a shot of whiskey will settle her mind. 

She gasps and freezes when she comes face to face with Jaime, who is standing in front of her door, his fist raised as if about to knock. 

“I couldn't sleep,” he says, low and breathy. His hand drops to his side, eyes drop down to her mouth, down to the neck of her robe. 

“Me either.” Her pulse races and the warmth in her chest she normally feels upon seeing Jaime moves steadily southward. 

“Brienne. You must know.”

She swallows. “Know what?” she asks, voice shaky.

“That I want you.” He picks up the end of her belt robe and twirls it around his finger. 

It is then that she looks down and sees he has taken his ski pants off, and his union suit leaves nothing to the imagination. A near-whimper gets stuck in the back of her throat when she sees the outline of his cock between his thighs. He’s not hard, but it’s still...substantial, and she has to force her eyes back up, dragging them slowly up his chest and lingering on the hollow of his throat before meeting his gaze again. 

“W-what?” Her heart feels like it might punch out of her chest.

“I’ve wanted you all season. You must have noticed you’re the only person I flirt with.”

“What?” she blurts again, her surprise winning out over the intensity of the moment. “All you do is...poke at me!”

“I never said I was any good at it…” he mutters, looking down at his toes.

An incredulous laugh escapes from Brienne’s lips, and she lifts Jaime’s chin with her finger. 

“Jaime…” Her fingers fan out along his jaw, and he leans into her touch.

“You really haven’t noticed that I look for you every time I enter a room? That I joke around with you so much because that huge, loud bark of a laugh is my favorite sound in the world? That I switched schedules with Addam so I could teach the kids’ classes with you, even though I _hate_ teaching kids’ classes?”

Brienne inhales sharply. She _had_ noticed those things, but she never imagined it was because he liked her as more than a friend. Because he wanted her.

But there is nothing uncertain about the look in his eyes now – it’s _want_ , heavy and heady and thrilling, and it sends a shock zinging up and down her spine. She steps closer to Jaime, whose lips look soft and lush and tempting, and slides her hand from his jaw to the back of his neck. She brings her mouth to his, softly at first, then more insistently, his faint moan drawing her in and opening her up. His tongue slides against hers and hands tighten at her waist, the heat of his fingertips scorching her even through her t-shirt.

Brienne breaks away for air and looks into his eyes, the green of his irises swallowed up by black. She unties her belt and pulls the robe off her shoulders, hearing it hit the floor with a soft thump, briefly wishing she'd chosen something sexier for bed than a faded old t-shirt and pajama shorts. Jaime reaches for the buttons at his chest, popping open one, then another, down to his sternum, exposing a little more golden skin with each button. 

Their mouths crash together again, Brienne’s heart pounding in her chest, her knees weakening as their tongues circle and thrust. She keens into his mouth and rocks her pelvis against his, desperate to feel all of him. He is unmistakably hard between them, bigger and thicker than she’d imagined, and all the blood in her head seems to rush to her cunt when she imagines him inside her.

Brienne tugs his hand and steps back toward her bedroom, but Jaime pulls her toward the fireplace, nipping on her neck. 

“In front of the fire? How cliche.” She means it to sound coy and playful, but her voice comes out as a whimper.

They stand in front of the fireplace and Jaime backs up half a step, watching her from beneath hooded eyelids as he undoes more buttons of his union suit. He takes his time, and she lets her eyes devour every sliver of skin he slowly exposes – muscled chest with dark blond hair scattered across it, defined abs highlighted by the orange glow of the fire, the V of muscle at the bottom of his stomach that leads her eyes down to the hard jut of his cock outlined by the cloth. He stops unbuttoning just there, sliding the top of the union suit down off his shoulders and letting the arms hang at his sides. 

He is so beautiful that Brienne’s breath catches at the sight of him, her hands itching to stretch out and touch his skin. He steps toward her and reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and off. Brienne slides her hands up his stomach and chest, their flushed skin pressing together as their lips and tongues meet again. 

She tugs him down to the rug, laughing as they roll and tussle and fight for dominance, ending with Jaime on top of her, their hands intertwined over her head. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he whispers, his mouth sliding across her neck and hands grazing lightly down the sensitive skin of her inner arms. 

Jaime sucks on her collarbone, then on the soft swell of her breast, then finally swipes his tongue over her nipple. She lets out a sharp cry as he closes his lips around it and sucks, scrapes his teeth over it. Her whole body tingles and buzzes, her hips rolling toward him, desperate for contact.

Jaime continues kissing down her body, her cunt aching for his touch. She tangles her fingers in his hair and scratches her nails across his scalp, drawing a moan that vibrates through her core. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and looks up at her, questioning. She nods and lifts her hips for him to remove her shorts and underwear, her legs falling open as he kneels between them. 

Jaime runs his hands from her knees to her inner thighs, making her shiver with anticipation. “You _do_ have freckles everywhere,” he remarks softly before pressing a kiss to her lower belly, then another to the juncture of her hip and thigh. 

“ _Please_ ,” Brienne whines, her mind unable to form anything more eloquent. She feels Jaime smirk against her skin before, blessedly, he brings his mouth to her cunt. Her back arches powerfully and a sound close to a sob escapes her as his tongue parts her folds. He alternates slow, soft licks up and down with the flat of his tongue, then darts the tip of it quickly against her clit. Then he slips two fingers inside her, and in what feels like seconds, she’s twisting and bucking her hips and coming hard against his mouth. 

Her toes curl up and heels dig into the floor. “ _Jaime, yes, Jaime, yes_ ,” she repeats as he licks her through her aftershocks. She pulls his head away, still whimpering softly, and he kisses his way back up her body, settling his weight on top of her.

“You taste amazing.” 

Brienne tastes herself on his lips, feels his muscles flex and tense as her hands smooth down his back and into his union suit. He keens when she pulls his hips down and arches up into his body, hisses when she slides her hand between them and palms the stiff length of his cock. 

“ _I want you_ ,” she whispers in his ear, licking and biting his earlobe. 

“Condom?” 

“Top drawer next to my bed.” She lifts herself up on her elbows as he stands, watching him hook his thumbs into the waist of his union suit and pull down, leaving him naked and glorious in front of the fire. His cock stands thick and hard between his legs, and she squeezes her thighs together and bites her lip. “Hurry.”

Jaime walks quickly into her room and comes out a few seconds later with the box of condoms that had been provided to all staff at the beginning of the season, unopened. She blushes slightly with embarrassment, but Jaime just rips the top off the box and grabs a strip of condoms, letting the rest scatter to the floor. He tears one open and rolls it onto himself, groaning when Brienne lets her knees fall open and reaches a hand out for him.

Jaime crawls over her body and kisses her, slow and deep, before bringing his hand to the back of her thigh and lifting her leg, positioning himself so the head of his cock bumps against her cunt. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, his forehead pressed to hers.

“Yes.” Brienne’s fingertips dig into his ass, feeling it flex as he slides inch by inch inside her. “You’re not the only one who’s wanted this – _ah_ ,” she gasps as he fills her completely, her inner walls clutching and pulling him in deeper. 

His hips still when he’s sheathed to the hilt, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. “ _Oh, fuck, Brienne_ ,” he moans, trembling above her. She wraps her legs around his waist and rocks her hips, crying out when his cock brushes some magical spot inside her. 

Their bodies begin moving in time, Jaime sliding out slowly and thrusting in hard and deep. Brienne digs her heels into his thighs, urging him deeper, faster. His chest hair scratches against her sensitive nipples, heightening every sensation in her body. She’d like to let him know how good he feels inside her, but all she can manage is “ _oh_ ,” louder and louder until she’s shouting it into the ceiling beams of the tiny cabin.

His breath is hot and heavy in her ear, whispering, “ _gods, you're so tight. Fucking perfect_.” His mouth flutters over her pulse as he bears his weight down on her, their bodies melding together. Jaime sets a punishing rhythm, his hips pistoning into her, his hand tangled in the hair at the back of her neck.

“ _Right there,_ ,” she gasps as his cock slides against her clit in a way that makes her see stars.

Brienne grinds against him just where she needs it, her eyes squeezing shut and back arching up into him as another explosion rocks through her body. Her cunt clenches and spasms around him, sparks flashing behind her eyelids. 

She can just make out snatches of his words underneath her cries of release. “ _Brienne...feel so good…so strong...oh, gods…_ ” Jaime’s hips stutter and he comes with a shout, burying himself deep inside her one more time before collapsing on top of her. 

They lay in front of the fire, sweat-soaked, breathing heavily. Brienne sweeps her hand up and down Jaime's spine, a little _hmm_ of pleasure reverberating against her neck. 

He levers himself up on his hands and stares down at her with a soft look in his eyes. "Still think sex in front of the fire is cliche?" 

Brienne rolls her eyes, the corner of her mouth ticking up. "I guess it was pretty good."

"Just pretty good? Oh, that sounds like a personal challenge. Good thing you have a full box of condoms."

She slaps his shoulder and tries to look annoyed, but her mouth curves into a smile instead. Jaime leans down and kisses her, just a soft caress of lips, but with the promise of so much more. 

***

Brienne wakes the next morning in her bed, naked as her nameday, sheets cool against her still-flushed skin. She rolls over and is greeted by the sight of Jaime’s broad back, the blanket slipping down and exposing the dip of his waist and the curve of his ass. _So it wasn’t a dream_ , she thinks, reaching out and grazing her fingertips over his skin to make sure he’s real, and really naked in her bed.

They’d fucked once more in front of the fire last night, Brienne’s hands planted on his chest as she rode him hard and fast. Then they’d finally moved to her bed and he made her come three more times before they fell heavily into sleep. 

Jaime makes a little hum of pleasure at the feel of her hand on his back and scoots closer to her. She rakes her fingernails up his thigh and is just about to wrap her hand around his cock when her door flies open.

Brienne yelps and turns to see Margaery and Addam in the doorway, mouths wide open. She clutches the sheet to her chest and shouts, “Marge, what are you…”

“YYYYYYYES!” Margaery hollers, pumping her fist and turning to Addam, whose look of surprise has turned to one of pure glee. “It worked!” They hug and high five and whoop, all while Jaime and Brienne are still lying in bed, staring at them with wide eyes.

Brienne shoots up to sitting and glares at them. “What do you mean, ‘it worked’?” She grinds out through clenched teeth.

“Brienne, I’m gay,” Margaery says, as if that’s a satisfactory explanation.

An incredulous sound escapes Brienne’s mouth. “So what was that last night?”

“ _That_ was our last-ditch effort to get you two dummies to finally bang,” Addam says from over her shoulder.

Brienne begins to put the pieces together in her head. “So the locked door was on purpose? And the thermostat?” 

“So you had to huddle for warmth and share a bed, _duh_.”

“I am going to _kill you_.” She looks over at Jaime, who is still reclining on the bed, bare-chested with his hands folded behind his head, looking much less annoyed than her. “Were _you_ in on this!?” 

Jaime holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “No, I swear. But I’m definitely not mad about it.” He grins his disarming grin that softens some of her displeasure at being toyed with.

She turns back to Margaery and Addam with narrowed eyes. “ _Out_.”

Margaery smirks and calls over her shoulder, “Still not sorry!” before shutting the door behind her.

“Those conniving…” she begins, but is silenced by a firm, insistent kiss.

“So their methods were a little devious. But are you really upset about the result?” Jaime asks after pulling away, his hand still at the back of her neck.

Her mouth forms a smile in spite of herself, and she kisses him back. “No. Not at all.”

“Good. If only we’d done this sooner.” 

“Well, what are we waiting for? We have about a week to make up for lost time,” she says, laying him back on the bed and climbing over top of him. 

Jaime smiles up from underneath her and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “But I hear Tarth is beautiful in the spring.”


	2. Alternate ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m calling this an “alternate ending” but it’s actually the REAL ending I would have used if not for that pesky word limit 😆 Really shot myself in the foot with that one.
> 
> Anyway, here’s 2,000+ more words of sex, picking up when Brienne wakes up the morning after. Bon(e) appetit.

Brienne wakes the next morning in her bed, naked as her nameday, and stretches her arm out into the space where Jaime had fallen asleep next to her last night. They’d fucked once more in front of the fire, Brienne’s hands planted on his chest as she rode him hard and fast, then finally moved to her bed, where he made her come three more times before they fell heavily into sleep. She expects her hand to meet with the flushed skin of Jaime’s back, but feels nothing but cool sheets. _Of course he left_ , she thinks blearily. _If it wasn’t all just a dream to begin with_.

She rolls out of bed, the ache in her hips reassuring her that last night was definitely real, hissing at the coldness of the floor on her bare feet while walking slightly bow-legged over to the door. She takes her robe off the hook and wraps it around herself, toes her feet into her slippers, and opens her door in search of her pajamas first, then coffee. She quickly spies her t-shirt and panties crumpled in front of the fireplace where Jaime had undressed her, but her shorts are nowhere to be found. Then something else catches her eye - Jaime’s gray union suit, still balled up on the floor where he’d shed it last night. Her face burns with the memory of him stripping it off in front of her, popping each button open slowly and seductively. For _her_.

Brienne drags her eyes away from it and sees his boots next to the door and his jacket still draped over the arm of the couch, so unless he’s tromping through the snow naked and barefoot, he hasn’t actually left. She walks over to the kitchen and finds another clue: a fresh pot steaming in the coffee maker. She’s pouring herself a cup when movement on the other side of the sliding glass door leading out to the back porch catches her eye – Jaime must have woken up earlier and not have wanted to wake her. 

Brienne eyes the union suit on the floor and an idea pops into her head. It’s something she never would have dreamed of doing with anyone else, but the way Jaime looked at her, worshipped her, _devoured_ her last night suggests that he’ll enjoy it just as much as she will. Setting her coffee cup on the counter, she shrugs out of her robe and into the union suit. It’s a little shorter and tighter in the legs than it had been on him, and a little roomier in the shoulders and chest, but it fits well enough, and the smell of him on it sends a surge of warmth between her legs. 

She slides the door open and walks slowly onto the balcony, where Jaime is sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs with Brienne’s pajama shorts stretched tight over his thighs, a blanket draped over his shoulders, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. The late-season, mid-morning sun is surprisingly warm, the drip-drip-drip of melting snow and the song of birds the only sounds they can hear. 

Jaime turns his head at her entrance and ticks up an eyebrow before dragging his eyes up and down her body. “Good morning,” he says, his voice thick and gravelly. Brienne’s memory flashes back to him using that same voice to whisper filthy things into her ear last night.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” She leans back against the door, letting Jaime’s eyes drink in every inch of her.

“I wanted to let you sleep. Figured I exhausted you enough last night.” His mouth quirks up into a smug smile, and Brienne wants to either smack or kiss it off his face.

She raises an eyebrow. “Okay, old man. You’re the one who’s going to need a nap later – I’m sure that was way past your bedtime.”

Jaime huffs out a laugh and takes a sip of his coffee, still watching her over the rim of his cup, swallowing and licking his lips. “That looks good on you.”

“Thanks.” She takes a few steps and stands in front of him, just out of his reach, looking down at him from under heavy eyelids. Jaime takes a quick breath when she undoes the first button, sits back to watch her when she pops open the second. By the time the buttons are undone down to her stomach, Jaime’s abandoned his coffee cup on the floor, his hips are shifting in the chair and his hands are rubbing up and down his thighs as if he’s desperate to reach out and touch her. 

Brienne slips the top of the union suit off her shoulders, the chilly air raising a spray of goosebumps across her skin and further hardening her nipples. Jaime bites his lower lip and groans softly, and her pulse beats a steady rhythm between her thighs. He’s obviously hard now, his cock straining against the cloth of the blue-and-white checked pajama shorts that he must have slipped on before leaving the bedroom to make coffee. 

Her hands itch with the desire to touch, so she kneels in front of Jaime and rakes her nails across his thighs, then leans forward and licks a stripe up the middle of his chest. “ _Oh_ ,” he breathes, vibrating against her mouth and through her body, making her throb even more intensely with need. But this is not for her - Jaime had been so incredibly generous last night, so concerned with nothing but her pleasure, that she wants to return the favor. Plus, the thought of making Jaime come undone with just her mouth sends a rush of power through her body.

She sucks a mark into Jaime’s neck before moving her mouth down, relishing his sharp intake of breath when she swipes her tongue across his nipple, moves her fingertips up his thighs and into the hem of the shorts. Heat radiates from his skin as her hands and mouth move closer to where she craves to touch him, to taste him. 

Jaime’s hands stroke gently up and down her back as she slips her fingers into his waistband and looks up into his eyes, now nearly black with lust. He lifts his hips so she can pull the shorts down, freeing his cock, thick and hard and arching up toward his stomach. Jaime’s fingertips dig into Brienne’s shoulders and a shudder racks his body when she sinks her teeth into his inner thigh. 

She traces a finger whisper-light down the center of his shaft, his cock twitching and pulsing with her touch. A bead of moisture presents itself temptingly at the head and she wants to lick it off, wants to know what every inch of him tastes like. She touches her tongue to the clear, salty droplet, then drags it down his shaft to the base and back up. “ _Oh_ ,” Jaime rumbles, obviously struggling not to buck his hips. “ _Shit, that’s…_ ” She nuzzles and breathes on him and peppers his cock with soft kisses, tormenting him just a little, until her hunger for him wins out. 

Taking him in hand, she wraps her lips around the head of his cock, relishing the moan that reverberates through him. “ _Gods, Brienne_.” Gasping, he gathers her hair at the back of her head with one hand, the fingers of his other fanned out along her jaw, feeling the muscles work around his cock. His hands on her are gentle yet slightly possessive, and Brienne is a little surprised at how unspeakably hot she finds it. Anyone else and she’d tense up, but possibly because she knows he would never do anything with those hands that she’d find uncomfortable, it turns her on even more. She slides her lips up and down, squeezing him at the base, taking a little more of him inside her each time until she feels him brush the back of her throat. 

“ _Oh, fuck, that’s so good_ ,” Jaime whimpers. Brienne lets out a moan of her own around his cock, the sensation of him filling her and the knowledge she is making him feel this good spurring her on through the slight discomfort. She’s soaking wet now, Jaime’s groans and whines and gasps shooting straight to her cunt as she begins to move her hand and head in unison. Jaime’s breath hitches, his hips moving jerkily, his cock pulsing and swelling under her ministrations. She sucks harder, her cheeks hollowing out as she slides up and down his shaft, desperate to feel him lose control. 

Just then, Jaime pushes her shoulders up and his cock slips from her mouth with a wet pop. 

Confused, Brienne sits back on her heels and whines, “But I wanted…” 

“I want you,” Jaime interrupts, breathing heavily as he pulls her to her feet. “Stay right there.” 

She watches Jaime’s ass flex as he slides the door open and runs to her bedroom. A second later, he comes back with a sleeve of condoms and tears one open, rolling it down his cock. He stalks over to where she’s standing and grabs her face, pulling her in for a deep, hungry kiss, his body pressing hers back against the glass of the door. 

His tongue plunges in and out of her mouth as his hands slide down, brushing her breasts before grabbing the top of the union suit, which still hangs around her waist. He rips the rest of the buttons open with a hard tug and pushes it down her legs. Brienne moans into his mouth and grinds against him desperately, her cunt throbbing. Jaime reaches down and slides his fingers through her folds, slick and swollen and aching to be filled. “Sucking me off got you this wet?” he murmurs into her ear with a slight tremble to his voice as he slips two fingers inside her easily, nipping at her earlobe.

“I wanted you to come in my mouth,” she gasps, her inner walls fluttering as his fingers pump in and out of her.

“Gods, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about those lips around me. I’ll come in your mouth whenever you want. Later. But right now I want to fuck you.”

“Please,” she whimpers when he pulls his fingers out of her, then lifts one of her legs, hitching it around his waist. Brienne reaches between them and lines him up, crying out as he drives into her with one hard thrust. The glass is cool against her back and it doesn’t even bother her that she’s naked on her balcony for the world to see when Jaime is driving in and out of her so powerfully that she lifts up on her toes every time he’s sheathed to the hilt. 

She can’t think, can barely breathe, her body and mind completely given over to the feeling of pure lust racing through her. Her walls squeeze around him, pulling him deeper, her fingers digging into his back. “ _Oh fuck, Jaime, yes_ ,” she moans, first quietly into his ear, then louder when her ecstasy becomes too much for her body to contain. The sounds they make can probably be heard on the slopes, but she can’t bring herself to care when tendrils of pleasure shoot through her with each thrust. Jaime’s pubic bone grinds against her clit just right, and after a few more strokes, she’s coming around him and trembling and muffling her shouts of his name in his neck. 

“ _Gods, you feel perfect, so good_ ,” he gasps, his hips snapping harder and harder against her before his own climax rocks through him. He shakes against her, keens in her ear, his fingertips digging hard into her thigh. With a gasp, he plunges into her one more time, burying himself inside her, then rests his forehead on the glass, chest heaving. They slump against each other, Brienne’s fingers grazing up and down his back as he releases her leg and wraps his arms around her waist. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “That was a good way to start the day.” 

A shiver runs through Brienne as her body starts to cool down, the chill of the weather and the glass finally seeping into her skin. Jaime chuckles and presses a kiss to her neck before bending down and pulling the union suit back up. She slips her arms back into the sleeves and kisses him before pushing lightly on his chest. 

“You should probably put some clothes on. We are outdoors, after all.”

“Are we? I didn’t even notice.” He smirks before grabbing the blanket from the chair and wrapping it around his waist. “Do you have any plans for the day?” he asks, his voice husky and eyes dark. Even if she had, she would have canceled them on the spot for him. 

“No. What did you have in mind?”

He grins devilishly and drops the blanket, then takes her hand.

“That box of condoms isn’t going to use itself,” he says, pulling her into the cabin and into her room, her giggles muffled by the slamming door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Margaery and Addam came back and everything happened like it did the first time, the end.
> 
> When I saw the union suit prompt my first thought was “what if BOTH OF THEM did a union suit striptease” but alas, I could only fit one in my initial fic. Hope you enjoyed this bonus content. :)
> 
> Thank you again to ilikeblue!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the wonderful ilikeblue for help with brainstorming the initial idea and betaing!


End file.
